We Are The Others
by Cormag Ravenstaff
Summary: We are the others. We are the cast-outs. We're the outsiders, but you can't hide us. If you feel mistreated, torn and cheated, you are not alone. Some Adult Themes
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own The Last Story

**This is my first time ever trying to write angst. But I think it turned out alright. Enjoy this small three chapter fanfic!**

**This is based off both a song that I really connect with as well as the Sophie Lancaster case.**

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><p>Yurick Lancaster lit his cigarette as he walked down the deserted street at midnight. The wind blew lightly at his black sweatshirt, making him glad for the foresight to wear his black sweatpants on the cool fall night.<p>

As he walked down the street, he yawned sleepily. It had been a long night, first had come the homework that he had rushed through, and then the long band practice at Syrenne's house. If they had any intention of being good, they had to really step up their game.

Yurick inhaled, taking the smoke in and sighed contently. He always felt happy after band practice, it was one of the few things in life he actually gave a damn about. That, and his friends, Syrenne, Lowell, Dagran and Mirania.

And now he had to go home.

Yurick's happiness soured at that thought, turning to thoughts that he'd rather not think about. Unconsciously, for it had become a subconscious habit, he adjusted his eyepatch.

People always asked him, "Why do you wear an eyepatch?" Yurick always told them it was because of his choice in style.

It wasn't like they'd believe him if he told the truth. That his father had almost killed him years ago in a drunken rage.

His mood completely dark, Yurick debated just going back to Syrenne's house. Sure, his father would probably beat him. Again. But one night of peace would be worth it.

"Why don't you tell anyone?" Syrenne always asked. Yurick _wanted_ to, but his father, to everyone else, seemed like a good guy. That he would never do something like abuse his son.

Besides, it wasn't like Yurick could prove it. And Lazulian courts were all about proof.

Finalizing his decision, Yurick turned heel and walked the other way. Screw his father, Yurick didn't care. After his mother had died, his father had turned...bad.

Apparently, it was all Yurick's fault.

And it wasn't, Yurick knew that, even if he didn't know the details. His mom died in a car crash, and Yurick was in school at the time at age 10.

Yurick turned the corner and followed the lit streetlights. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the ground and stomped it out. Normally he liked to be friendly towards the environment, like Mirania always nagged him about. But he was tired, and just didn't care.

The pathway he was on ran parallel to a forest that Yurick used to go to as a kid. He stopped walking and looked at it, the smallest of smiles creeping onto his face.

Yurick stopped his breathing, listening to the wind through the trees. He swore he had just heard something, like hushed voices?

Yurick walked into the woods a few feet and listened. He heard nothing, except the wind. Sighing and cursing under his breath, Yurick turned around.

Something collided with the back of his head. Yurick tumbled to the ground, extremely dazed and not quite comprehending what was going on.

"What's up, freak?" said one of the voices. Yurick blinked several times, trying to see who had just hit him.

"Your kind don't belong," another voice said savagely. "You deserve to die."

Yurick shakily stood up, but was knocked down again by one of his assailants. This time, he wasn't quite as dazed and he tried to run away from his attackers.

But he ran right into a third person. "Oh no you don't," said the new voice. Yurick saw something shiny glint in the person's hand. Yurick watched it as it flew towards him in the dark.

It lanced through Yurick, causing him to scream. The guy had just stabbed him! Yurick stumbled back, but was caught by one of the other people. Said person held him as the man with a knife advanced on him.

Yurick felt the knife stab into him again and again. Even with his high pain tolerance, courtesy of his father, didn't help him as he screamed.

Eventually, after what seemed like ages, the knife ended it. It plunged into Yurick's heart, and the person holding him dropped him to the ground.

Yurick's vision began to fade. He was dying.

"Heh, nice one," said a voice.

"Fucking goths," commented another.

"Let's split," said the guy with a knife.

Yurick's vision faded completely, as did the air in his lungs, and the life in him.

* * *

><p><em>The Next Day...<em>

Syrenne Caverly yawned as she walked in the school. Her head hurt, a lot. Definitely one of her worse hangovers.

"Ugh," she moaned.

"Buck up Syrenne, it'll get better," said Lowell Faraday, a cheerful grin on his face. "Or do you want me to kiss you until you forget about the pain?"

"Don't kiss me when I have a hangover, it's not as enjoyable," Syrenne moaned.

The two were a couple, clearly. Most wouldn't expect it, given how much they argued. But for them, it was just a pastime. Something competitive to do. And to keep them distracted from their other problems.

They went to their usual spot in the school. They all got here about an hour before school started. The spot was in a corner, away from everyone. No one wanted to associate with them, and they were fine with that. They were the Others, after all. As their band name went and in truth.

When Syrenne and Lowell arrived, only Mirania was there. And she was eating a muffin, as usual.

"Hello you two," she said in her soft voice. Mirania Jenson was the pianist in their band, and she also managed all the electronic sound that gave their band its signature style.

"How're you doing?" Syrenne asked, her voice turning soft. She only did that for Mirania though, Lowell, Yurick and Dagran got her usual treatment.

"I'm doing fine, and you two?" Mirania asked kindly.

In some ways, Mirania had it easier than the rest of them. And some ways, much harder. Three years ago, she had been raped by her father. And now she had adoptive parents that actually loved her. But for her friends, they could see how much she had been traumatized. Syrenne knew for a fact that she still had nightmares occasionally.

"Just peachy," Syrenne said, pointing to her head. Mirania smiled, knowing exactly what Syrenne meant.

"Someone dipped a bit too low into the bottle last night," Lowell said, rolling his eyes.

"Oi, shut it you," Syrenne grumbled, not really annoyed.

Syrenne's drinking habit was somewhat of a puzzlement for the average onlooker. At first, it didn't seem like she had anything horrible going on at her house. And that was because the damage was done. Just like her late father, she compulsively drank. The only highlight was that when she drank, unlike her father, she didn't do horrible things to those she cared about.

It wasn't like she had a daughter to abuse or anything.

Lowell helped with that in a major way. He kept her in check. His parents had gotten a divorce, and neither wanted to keep Lowell. So instead of being turned in to a foster home, Syrenne's mother took him in. She was the nicest woman Syrenne knew, and that went for her friends too. Lowell, Yurick and Dagran called her mom as well. And Syrenne and Yurick shared a special connection, both having similar problems.

The three sat together and talked about nothing, like usual. Along with Dagran and Yurick, they all had a close friendship. Maybe it was because they were all outsiders, people whom no one wanted to associate with. Or maybe it was because they could all share in each other's troubles and relate. Whether it was one or the other, the group of five had become extremely close through through the past seven years.

"Oi, how's it going?" Dagran said as he walked up behind them. Syrenne jumped, having been startled and Lowell laughed. And as if it were necessary, she punched Lowell in the arm in good humor.

Dagran de'Winter was likely the one who needed the group of friends the most. He was suicidal, having almost ended his life once a year back. His parents were both dead, dying at ages where he could actually remember and be affected. He now lived with his uncle, but in Dagran's words, "That doesn't make it go away."

Dagran was the drummer of their band. One look at him and his hair style and anyone could probably guess it. Lowell was their electric guitar man, and his playing was surprisingly impressive. So was Dagran's, but Lowell was Syrenne's boyfriend, so of course she thought he played better than Dagran. It was simple relationship logic.

And though an observer might not expect it, Syrenne was the vocalist. The lead singer. Truth was, she didn't really believe it either, but she had a beautiful voice. When they decided on making a band, Syrenne was the obvious choice.

And Yurick was basically the guy who made everything work. He was the backup guitarist, the manager and worked with Mirania to create the electric sounds in their music.

Speaking of Yurick...

"Have any of you seen Yurick?" Syrenne asked, interrupting Dagran, who was telling Mirania that she could have his muffin at lunch.

"His father probably is keeping him late today," Mirania said softly. "Band practice did run late yesterday."

The four of them looked down. They all knew what that meant. And while they may share in their problems, it didn't make said problems easy to talk about.

Syrenne felt horrible inside, she was the one who pushed for them to keep practicing last night. If Yurick was home because of his father, then it was Syrenne's fault.

Lowell, being the observant person he was, saw Syrenne's expression and said, "Not your fault Syrenne. Yurick wanted to keep going too."

"I know but..." she trailed off and Lowell gave her a hug.

"Let's talk about something else," Dagran suggested, not wanting to start their day out like this. Perhaps Yurick wasn't late because of that, perhaps he was just tired from the night before. Yeah, that had to be it.

"Like our performance plans?" Mirania said, a slight smile creeping to her face.

"What?" Lowell asked, puzzled.

"Yurick told me last night that he got us our first performance. The school talent show is coming up in a month, and this is our chance to play. We get two songs, and we're slated to be last in the lineup, so we'll need to make an impression," Mirania revealed.

"Yes!" exclaimed Dagran. Syrenne was smiling wider than ever before and Lowell was doing a little victory dance.

They had never done anything public. They had practiced and practiced for the past year. In Syrenne's opinion, they were getting quite good. And that wasn't a biased opinion, they actually _were_ good.

"Tonight we're going to celebrate," declared Syrenne. "My house, after band practice. And you'll all be there."

"Hmph, as if you think I'd miss," Dagran said, a grin on his face. It had been a long time since he'd smiled.

"Of course," Mirania giggled.

"Hmm, I don't know Syrenne, there's a chance I might not be in the neighborhood-"

Syrenne poked Lowell in the side, hard. He yelped and the other two started laughing.

The school's bell rang, signaling it was time to get to class.

The four walked as a group, splitting off as they went to head to their classes. For once, they smiled as they left. They were each ready to take the share of bullying and insults they'd hear that day.

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><p><em>Lunchtime...<em>

Much like their morning meeting spot, their group's lunchtable was off to the side where no one bothered them. No one ever sat there but them, and the group of five never minded that.

Except that one of their number was missing.

"Where the bloody hell is Yurick!?" said Syrenne. "Any of you seen him?"

Lowell shook his head, this year he didn't have any classes that intersected with Yurick.

Dagran shrugged.

Mirania however, looked worried. She, out of all of them, usually saw Yurick before lunch between classes, "I haven't seen him."

Dagran frowned, "Maybe his dad did get to him."

With that thought, an uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Across the lunchroom, laughter could be heard. None of the group paid any attention, except Mirania. Saying that she'd be back, she stood up and walked away.

"It's just messed up," Dagran said. "Why did it have to be us?"

Neither Syrenne nor Lowell responded, both silently agreeing with Dagran's remark.

The silence prevailed, lasting several minutes with each member of the table stewing in their own thoughts.

The silence, however, was interrupted by soft crying. Syrenne, Lowell and Dagran looked up to see Mirania crying while looking at a newspaper.

She set it down on the table for them all to see. The headline was 'Murder.'

And Yurick's picture was on the front page.

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><p><strong>Author Note: Definitely a first for me, angst is. But I've been reading too many angsty fanfics, so they got to me. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!<strong>

**On a side note, I'm marking The Three Musketeers as complete. From now on, my tLS stories will be shorter ones like this. I just work better that way.**

"**I'm sick of it! All the pain and suffering!"**

**-Zael**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own The Last Story.

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><p>Syrenne punched the wall. Hard.<p>

When she made to do it again, Lowell stopped her.

"Fuck, Lowell," she said between tears. "Let go of me!"

"No," he said, his tone hard. "Yurick wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."

Syrenne broke down into tears once again, "They...they were... laughing at him!"

Lowell's expression fell even darker. The laughter throughout the lunchroom earlier that day had indeed been because of the newspaper article.

Syrenne felt herself being brought in for a hug. Crying into Lowell's shoulder, Syrenne felt herself being walked down the street, continuing towards their house.

Lowell got them there, albeit slowly. He wanted to cry as well, but it didn't seem real to him. Yurick, sarcastic, funny, quiet Yurick, was gone. Forever.

When they entered the house, Lowell saw his, well, Syrenne's mother stepped into the main hallway to greet them. As soon as she saw the current situation, she looked at Lowell for answers.

"Not now," he mouthed silently. Syrenne's mother hesitated, but nodded, allowing the pair to pass and walk up to Syrenne's room.

"Syrenne," whispered Lowell.

Syrenne managed to slow her tears in response to Lowell.

"Syrenne," Lowell repeated. "Let's get you into bed."

Syrenne nodded shakily as Lowell helped her into her bed. After making sure she was okay, Lowell left the room, most likely to explain to Ms. Caverly what had happened.

Syrenne didn't fall asleep though. The laughter kept echoing through her mind.

_This...can't have happened. Let it be a dream,_ she begged.

It wasn't, and Syrenne felt more alone than ever before.

"They've got to know," Syrenne said aloud, hoarsely. Amidst the tears, a fire determination lit in her eyes. She stood up and walked to her desk.

"They've got to know..." she muttered as she began to write, only pausing to grab her secret stash of booze.

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><p><em>Elsewhere...<em>

Dagran leaned over the counter in his bathroom, clenching his fists.

It just wasn't fucking fair.

Yurick had been his friend since he was eleven. They had all been friends since they were eleven. The past seven years, they'd helped each other and worked through their problems together.

They were the ones who held each other when the bad things just seemed so overwhelming.

And Yurick was gone.

Dagran stared at the razor in the corner of the counter. He always kept it there, as a reminder.

_There's always a way out,_ his mind echoed to him.

"No," Dagran growled.

The dark haired man left the bathroom, not daring to look back. He didn't think that anymore. He didn't _allow_ himself to think like that anymore.

It wasn't like a year ago.

_Dagran sat alone in his house. No one was home besides him._

_He just couldn't take it anymore!_

_All the pain, the sadness...all of it!_

_The loneliness._

_He was alone. His parents were gone. His uncle wasn't much of an uncle. Dagran, the kid who was always quiet in his younger years, never talking to anyone, never trying to make friends, was alone._

_Dagran swore angrily as he clenched the razor harder. All it would take was a few slashes to his wrist..._

_"Bloody hell Dagran," came a familiar voice._

_All in all, he had expected it. Dagran wasn't surprised that Yurick stood in the doorway in front of him. Hell, he wasn't even surprised when he saw Syrenne there either. They had seen how bad of a day he was having._

_"Dagran..." Syrenne said slowly. He could tell she didn't know how to react._

_But Yurick did, "Dagran, do you really think this is the way to do this?"_

_Dagran said nothing. _

_Yurick didn't expect him to, "Dagran, none of us have much in the way of happiness in life. But we've got each other. Call it cliché, but we're your friends. If you don't want to think about yourself living any longer, fine. But what about us? Don't you think we'll miss you?"_

_"How...could you miss _me?"_ Dagran croaked._

_"Because you're our friend," Syrenne said scathingly. "And I don't want you to ever think that you're alone. Because you're not!"_

_"Syrenne's right," Yurick said. "After all, _we're_ here right now, aren't we? Why would we have come if we weren't worried?"_

_Dagran dropped the razor without a sound. Syrenne deftly picked it up._

Dagran broke out of his trance. That time was in the past. No point in worrying about it.

Except he was. It was in his nature.

For the first time since then, since they created their band that very day, Dagran felt alone. He felt the sadness. The pain. The loneliness.

Dagran blinked several times, there had to be something he could do.

His phone buzzed. Dagran looked over to see a text from Syrenne.

_My house. 8PM._

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><p>In Syrenne's garage, the band met up. All four of them. Each noticed and couldn't help but look to the place where Yurick would usually stand.<p>

Empty.

All their equipment was stored in the garage. Their band, the Others, was this room. Syrenne's happiest memories almost always came from this room.

"Syrenne?" Lowell asked, curiously. Syrenne had sent them all a text, telling them to meet here. Not even Lowell knew why.

"I wrote a song," she said bluntly. "For Yurick."

Syrenne was the song writer for the band as well, along with Lowell, who usually helped his girlfriend out.

It was not usual for them to not work together.

Her three friends each took a copy and looked over the song. Despite the situation, Syrenne still felt the usual nerves. Would they like it? Was it up to par with her other songs?

Would Yurick like it?

"Syrenne..." Lowell began after reading through it.

"Syrenne, I think it's wonderful," Mirania said softly, a tear trickling from her eye.

"We better get practicing," Dagran said with the smallest of smirks.

Those two went about setting up the band for practice. Lowell turned to Syrenne and embraced her.

"They're beautiful, Yurick would love it," he said. "He always did like this tone of music."

"We should play them at the talent show at the end of the month," Syrenne said. "Our first show...for Yurick."

"We better get practicing then," Lowell said. "We've gotta let that beautiful voice of yours get practicing!"

And for the first time since she heard the news, Syrenne smiled. "Let's get cracking," she said.

* * *

><p><em>Several Days Later...<em>

Syrenne was angry. Very angry.

Yurick's funeral just ended. His father had put it on, but not shown up. Bastard.

None of them really expected him to show up. But what really pissed them all off, was that besides them four, only two other people showed up. One of Yurick's uncles, and one aunt.

Six people.

Yurick had deserved better than that.

"That was shit," growled Dagran. The other three silently agreed. They had each said something, but it wasn't like it made any difference. There were only two others to hear them.

And Yurick was still dead.

"Let's go practice. Yurick would appreciate that more than a stuffy funeral any day," Lowell suggested.

The rest agreed.

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><p><em>Sometime Later...<em>

Syrenne's voice lingered on the last note as Mirania faded out on the piano.

With two weeks to the performance, they were well on their way to perfecting the song. It wasn't easy, however.

"Let's take a little break," Lowell said, exhausted.

Dagran nodded and set down his drumsticks. Mirania took her hands from the piano and closed her eyes for a brief rest.

"How're you holding up?" Lowell asked Syrenne.

"Fine," Syrenne said. Except she _wasn't_ fine. She was tired as hell. But she owed it to Yurick to keep going. He always worked the hardest out of them all. "We gotta work on this."

Lowell nodded, "Alright, but take it a bit easier, 'kay?"

Syrenne nodded. She turned, making eye contact with the other two. They nodded and got back into position.

With a nod from Syrenne, Mirania began her piano solo. After a brief period of plain piano, she switched her keyboard to the more electric feel that the band was accustomed to.

Dagran entered with drums, playing a steady beat that was overshadowed by Mirania's piano.

Syrenne began,

_I'm walking with Yurick tonight...  
>He lives in the air that I breathe...<em>

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><p><strong>Author Note: I'll let you know what the song is next chapter. I've rearrangedchanged a few words so it'll work better with this fic, but we'll see how it turns out!**

**And I understand Syrenne writing a song in few hours is extremely unrealistic. But she's Syrenne, and this is a fanfic. It's for the plot :D**

"**Haha, well…I only like women."**

**-Lowell**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own the Last Story.

**The Song that the band sings is called ****We Are the Others****. It's by ****Delain****, and I highly recommend you listen to it.**

_**Italics **_**are Syrenne singing, **_**Underlined Italics**_** are Lowell's backup vocals**

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><p>Syrenne took a deep breath nervously.<p>

First live stage performance. Quite nerve wracking.

"Buck up Syrenne, it's almost time," Dagran said, spinning a drumstick in his hand.

Syrenne nodded and tried her best to.

One of the teachers poked his head out from the stage. He was the one in charge, Mr. Zael. Probably one of the most well liked teachers at the school.

"You guys are up," he said with a smile. "Let's finish this talent show with a bang!"

The four band members nodded and gathered up what they needed and progressed to the stage.

They saw all their instruments where they had put them earlier. Dagran began setting up his drums, adjusting the nobs and making sure it was just like he wanted. Mirania turned on her electric keyboard while Lowell plugged in his guitar.

Syrenne adjusted her microphone and looked out over the audience. No one was cheering like they had for the other acts. Syrenne didn't expect anything less though.

But they'd show them.

They may not ever find out who killed their friend, but they would honor him.

Syrenne turned around and made eye contact with each member of the band.

A nod from Dagran.

A smile from Mirania.

And a grin from Lowell.

Syrenne turned back around to the audience and saw Mr. Zael sitting in the front row, smiling.

_At least someone will enjoy this, _Syrenne thought and gave Mirania the thumbs up.

Mirania began playing a soft piano melody on her keyboard. After sometime, Dagran came in with his drums and Mirania switched the setting on her keyboard for a much different sound. Lowell came in as well, though not overpowering the other two instruments.

Syrenne took one last deep breath, and began.

_I'm walking with Yurick tonight  
>He lives in the air that I breathe<br>I can't get it out of my mind,  
>how you were left to bleed<br>Was it how you dressed,  
>or how you act?<br>I can't believe  
>how they could act so violently,<br>without regret  
>well, we will not forget<em>

When Syrenne's vocals took a brief pause, Dagran rose out of the sound with his drums and Mirania started playing louder as well.

_We are the others,  
>we are the cast-outs,<br>we're the outsiders,  
>but you can't hide us!<br>We are the others,  
>we are the cast-outs,<br>you're not out there on your own  
>If you feel mistreated,<br>torn and cheated,  
>you are not alone<br>We are the others_

Lowell echoed the last line with his microphone. Since Yurick was gone, Lowell was backup vocals. Suddenly, Dagran dropped in volume and Mirania faded away some and Lowell began playing louder.

_As simple as air in your lungs  
>as simple as words on your lips<br>And no one should take that away  
>no one should argue this!<br>Now with our heads up high,  
>we'll carry on,<br>and carry out  
>that we won't let them get us down<br>or wear us out  
>'cause we are not alone<em>

The chorus began again and Lowell faded back as Dagran and Mirania took the stage again.

_We are the others,  
>we are the cast-outs,<br>we're the outsiders,  
>but you can't hide us!<br>We are the others,  
>we are the cast-outs,<br>you're not out there on your own  
>If you feel mistreated,<br>torn and cheated,  
>you are not alone<br>We are the others_

Mirania abruptly switched back to the normal sound of a piano as Syrenne and Lowell began trading lines of the next verse.

_Normal is not the norm  
>It's just a uniform<em>

_We are the others_

_Forget about the norm_

_We're the outsiders_

_Take off your uniform_

_We are the others_

_We are all beautiful_

_We are the others!_

_We are the others,  
>we are the cast-outs,<br>we're the outsiders,  
>but you can't hide us!<br>We are the others,  
>we are the cast-outs,<br>you're not out there on your own  
>If you feel mistreated,<br>torn and cheated,  
>you are not alone<br>We are the others…_

Syrenne's voice faded away as Lowell's lingering guitar faded out after her voice.

Syrenne looked out at the audience to see silence.

She looked down, determined not to cry.

_Clap._

_Clap._

_Clap._

Syrenne looked up to see several students standing up and beginning to clap. One by one, the rest of the students stood up and began to clap.

Syrenne took a glance back to see what her friends' reactions were.

Mirania was just smiling warmly, with possibly a tear in her eye.

Dagran just leaned back on his drum stool with a smug smile.

Lowell grinned at Syrenne, which she returned.

They may not ever find out who killed Yurick, but they honored his memory.

Every success the band had from now on was for Yurick.

To give tribute for all his work, and his memory.

Syrenne felt a tear slide down her cheek.

Times were about to change. Not immediately, but slowly and surely they would. Syrenne knew that this marked a new start.

"We wish you were here Yurick," murmured Syrenne.

Then she whipped away her tears and looked out at the clapping audience, a true smile on her smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Note: Not my best work, but I am proud of it. This has shown me that writing angst isn't for me. I'm all for angst, but I can't write a story that has its whole focus become angst. So next time you see something pop up in the tLS section, expect something completely happier and with action and adventure.<strong>

**And SyrennexLowell, but that's a given.**

**Thanks to all who reviewed!**


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